The Runaway Asset
by Lia Whyteleafe
Summary: Something kept tugging him back, telling him to slow down and wait, that Steve wasn't going to stop until he'd found him and brought him home.


**The Runaway Asset**

**_Author's Note:_ ******Inspired by 'The Runaway Bunny', by Margaret Wise Brown.****

**For Griselda Banks. Thank you.**

**_Disclaimer:_ I do not own anything.**

The Asset stared down at the figure in the mud.

_Bucky._

That was what the mission had called him. He remembered now.

"Then finish it. Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line." With those words, the ice surrounding him had shattered and memories came flooding in like the tide.

…_a small figure staggering to his feet, wiping blood away from his mouth as he stared down three boys much bigger than he was…_

…_Steve concentrating hard on a sketch, frowning as he tried to get the shadow the woman was casting just right…_

"…_It's OK. She's next to Dad…"_

"…_I'm with you 'til the end of the line, pal…"_

"…_I thought you were dead…"_

"_...Thought you were smaller…"_

The mission's (no, Steve, that's his name) lips were moving, his chest still rising and falling. He would survive this. He was strong; he always had been. The Asset should stay beside him until he woke up. But he knew he couldn't. Other memories were coming back too (blood on the snow, blood staining his hands, pleas for mercy, _Sergeant Barnes?_), and he knew he couldn't stay. What would Steve think of him now, after all the things he'd done?

_If you run away, he will run after you._

The Asset turned away and started walking. He knew how to disappear. He would go somewhere Steve would never find him.

* * *

_He was alone on top of a mountain, high above the earth. The wind blew sharply at him, threatening to take him away with it, so he kept as still as a rock on the mountainside._

_He was safe up here._

_Something made him look down. Two people were climbing up the mountain, one leading the other. A few more minutes, and they would reach him. As he watched, the leader pointed up at him and the second figure looked up as well._

_It was Steve. His face lit up and he began to climb faster, right towards where the Asset was… _

His eyes flew open and all he could see was darkness. Eventually his eyes adjusted until he could see the roof above. Nobody had thought to look in this safe house yet; he'd been able to find basic supplies and weapons, and it had been easy to steal clothes from abandoned bags in shop doorways.

It was early morning. Time to go.

But he couldn't get that dream out of his head.

* * *

_The air was sweet. He was surrounded by soft pink walls; when he stood up to peer over them, he realised he was standing in the middle of a flower. He remembered the name of the plant – it was a crocus, like the ones he and Steve used to draw._

_There were flowers everywhere: crimson roses, white lilies, golden daffodils and tiny purple primroses. The gardener walked along the opposite flowerbed, carefully tending to the blooms. _

_Suddenly, he walked over to a tiny gate and opened it, allowing someone to enter._

_The Asset froze, his hands clutching the edge of the petal. It couldn't be. It couldn't. It __**couldn't**__…what was he doing here? This was a hidden garden; how had __**he**__ managed to get here?_

_Steve looked around the garden, his eyes bright with hope. The gardener touched him on the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the crocus._

_The Asset couldn't move. Steve's eyes met his, and the next moment Steve was walking towards the crocus, kneeling in front of the flowerbed and reaching out to pick him up…_

The Asset's eyes flew open. His heart hammered at his ribs.

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes._

He couldn't call himself the Asset anymore, but he couldn't go back either. He had no choice but to keep running lest the shadows – or Steve – catch up with him.

* * *

_He was flying. Fields passed beneath him like seconds and there was nothing but blue, blue, blue above him. _

_It was glorious, but he was tired now. His wings ached; he needed to find a place to rest a while._

_He descended towards the earth, looking out for somewhere he could land. There was a tree nearby; its branches waved gently in the breeze. As he flew in its direction, the branches stretched out towards him like arms waiting to welcome him home…_

Barnes' eyes flew open.

* * *

_He sat by himself in a small sailboat, in the middle of the ocean. Waves gently rose and fell all around him; he couldn't see anything else, no other boats, no ships, nothing. He was completely alone on the water. Just then, the wind filled the white sails and sent the boat gliding over the surface. He closed his eyes and trusted the wind to send him where it wanted him to go._

_Gradually, shapes appeared over the horizon. It was a small town, probably a fishing village, but there were no boats at the harbour._

_A solitary figure stood close to the water's edge. Even from that distance, Bucky recognised him. He would know him anywhere. He tried to turn the boat around, but there was no rudder and the wind was gently pushing him close to where Steve stood waiting for him…_

Bucky opened his eyes. He needed to leave. He could sense Steve was getting closer.

* * *

_There was a strange fizzing sound. Bucky looked down and saw a golden line being drawn around him by an invisible hand. _

_Then the earth swallowed him up and he was falling, down down down into the darkness. He heard someone screaming and realised it was him, yelling out one long, drawn-out word._

_**Help!**_

_Suddenly there was light all around him, but he was still falling. Then strong arms caught him, one around his back and the other around his legs. They held him safely and securely while the portal above fizzled shut._

_Steve's eyes were shining with joy. "Hey, Buck."_

Bucky opened his eyes. A thin shaft of sunlight had found its way through the boarded-up window and had fallen onto his face. Slowly, reluctantly, he got up, shouldered his pack and walked outside, into the cold morning light.

But as he kept wandering, he couldn't get the look on Steve's face out of his mind. Something kept tugging him back, telling him to slow down and wait, that Steve wasn't going to stop until he'd found him and brought him home.

He kept going.

* * *

_He was home. He used to live here, back in Brooklyn._

_It was just like he remembered it. His sister's bedroom was just through there, next to their parents'. He used to put couch cushions on the floor for Becky and for Steve, when they were kids! He remembered his father's smile, his mother's laughter…_

_He remembered __**all**__ of it._

_Bucky walked towards the door that led to his bedroom and opened it, only to step into a different room. He knew this one too: it was the apartment he used to live in before he enlisted. It even __**smelled**__ the same: a tiny but unmistakeable trace of mould hovered in the air. No wonder Steve kept getting sick if this was all he was able to…_

_Wait a minute. This wasn't Bucky's apartment, it was…_

_The front door closed. Bucky had just enough time to realise what that meant when he heard footsteps behind him. He didn't dare turn around. His heart was in his throat, threatening to choke him._

_Steve's voice said his name._

_Slowly, Bucky turned around to face him._

_For one moment, Steve just stood there, wonder and disbelief in his eyes. Then he ran up to Bucky and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly._

"_You came back," he whispered into Bucky's ear. "You came back!"_

Bucky opened his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet and picked up his pack. It had been raining last night and he'd been lucky enough to find an old warehouse with a broken window just large enough for him to slip through.

"You think that's all of them?"

He froze. It couldn't be. It _couldn't_ be…

"Yup, pretty sure. And if there are any more, Natasha and Clint'll take care of them."

It was Steve. He was really, truly here – right outside the warehouse Bucky had chosen to sleep in. Bucky didn't know who the other speaker was, but Steve was _here_.

"Sam's searching the other warehouses; I'll look at the ones around here and..."

No. No, he couldn't. Bucky ran stealthily towards the broken window and got ready to toss the bag through it.

_Don't run._

He stopped, then shook himself and shoved the bag between the jagged broken glass.

_He's your friend, and he loves you._

Bucky knew. That was why he had to leave, even though his heart wrenched at the thought. He wriggled through the window, landed on his feet – and found himself staring right into a pair of astonished dark eyes. The man immediately raised one hand; a bright light built up in the middle of his palm. Bucky froze, not wanting to give the stranger any excuse to attack him.

Stupid. He hadn't checked his surroundings before exiting the building. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Asset…

This man looked familiar. Where had Bucky seen him before? Black hair, forties or fifties, red and gold armour…wait, he knew who this was. He'd overheard Pierce telling Crossbones about this man, that they might have to send the Asset after him if he became too large a threat. This was Howard Stark's son.

Howard and Maria's son.

Judging from the way he was glaring at him, Stark clearly knew _exactly_ who Bucky was.

They stared at each other and the seconds crawled by like years. Then the anger seemed to fade away from Stark's eyes, leaving behind what looked like a resigned pity. Slowly, he lowered his hand.

Bucky thought he heard Steve's footsteps. He tensed, ready to flee.

"You know, if you run away," Stark said conversationally, "he's gonna run after you."

Bucky knew that.

"He's been looking for you for months. You really think he's just gonna give up on you?"

No, Steve wouldn't give up. It wasn't in his nature. He never, ever, ever gave up on anyone or anything. He was the strongest person Bucky knew – and the most loyal. He would keep searching for Bucky and he wouldn't stop until he'd brought him home.

_He won't find you until you want to be found._

Bucky felt something hot and uncomfortable prick at his eyes. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be found, but was that possible? After everything he'd done, after all the innocent blood he'd shed, could he even go home?

Was it possible for someone like him to be forgiven?

Steve was coming. He could hear his footsteps. Bucky's heart beat faster and he clenched his fists, but he held his ground even though every instinct was screaming at him to run.

And then Steve was there. His outfit was different from the one Bucky remembered, but the shield was still the same. "No sign of them. Clint says…"

The shield clattered to the ground. Steve stopped dead, staring at the two figures. He wasn't alone – the man from the helicarriers was there too. The man with the wings.

"I'm not the only one seeing this, right?" the winged man said.

"No," Steve breathed. "No, you aren't…"

Stark gestured towards Bucky. "Friend of yours, I believe, Cap?"

Steve started to walk towards Bucky, not once taking his eyes from his face. Then he was standing in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders, those worried, hopeful, searching eyes looking right into Bucky's face.

_Can I come home?_

Bucky must have spoken out loud, because the next thing he knew he was wrapped in strong, gentle arms.

"Yes. Yes, you can. You're safe. You're safe, oh, thank God..." And Steve broke down, holding Bucky close and whispering _Thank You, thank You, thank You_ over and over again.

Bucky laid his head on Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes.

**The portal scene was inspired by a piece of artwork that has Bucky falling from a portal (most likely courtesy of Dr Strange), with Steve standing below waiting to catch him.**

**Hope you enjoyed the story!**


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